The brightest thing a house can do,
When morning fills the skies,
Is just to catch the sun's first rays,
And flash the brilliant prize.
No eighty-candle lights within
Can match the dazzling sight,
And every window-pane becomes
A fusillade of light!
Thus, thus it is when households kneel
In humble morning prayer.
The very Sun of Righteousness
Is caught and captured there:
And all the day, in all its ways,
However dull they be,
The happy windows of that home
Are scintillant to see!
